Three Words
by Dinox5
Summary: "'I miss you.' She says and you can feel your heart stop. You want to tell her that you miss her too. More than she knows." And there is so much you want to tell her. So you remember. (Only short but please read and review? Thanks a lot)


Three Words.

'I miss you.' She says and you can feel your heart stop. You want to tell her that you miss her too. More than she knows. You want to tell her how every night you cry yourself to sleep, you wear that old hoodie of hers. You wear it every chance you get, wrapped up in it, breathing it in, trying to make the most of the faint smell of her perfume mingled in with her natural honey and vanilla scent that still lingers. You want to tell her that nothing is the same anymore. That you can't and don't want to have to spend everyday without her, without her smile, her laugh, her eyes, her soft kisses, her sweet words.

Her.

You want to tell her how you walk around the apartment playing her music, deep soulful voices, soft jazz, blues. You want to tell her how you're hooked on Norah Jones, Etta James, Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, Amy Winehouse, Mamie Smith, Ma Rainey all the singers she would pay tribute to as she wandered around the apartment. Especially when she baked for you. You want to tell her that you miss those lazy Sunday mornings, the ones where the two of you would lay in bed together, both tracing intricate patterns on each others skin, as she told stories, jokes, lame cheesy poetry from high school that made you smile, when she'd hum in contentment whenever your fingertips grazed her collarbone, your lips against the shell of her ear, your legs intertwined and your bare skin touching hers.

You want to tell her how you miss Friday nights, date nights. The nights when you'd come home from work and she'd massage your shoulders to ease out the tension, before kissing your neck gently and telling you to get your fine ass ready because she was taking you out for dinner, or dancing, or to a movie, or even roller blading that one time. You want to tell her how you remember her falling over in her skates, how she fell right on her butt and how she squealed as she slipped, reaching out and grabbing your arm as she did so, pulling you to the floor with her, you want to remind her of your laughter echoing around the room, as other people simply zipped by you with ease. You want to tell her how you would boast about her at work, how your girlfriend was the owner of one of the largest companies in New York, about how her endless charity work has helped so many people make something of themselves, how proud of her you were.

You want to be with her again, you want to go away somewhere with her, go for walks through the park, even if it's cloudy, how you want to have picnics by the river, and dance together in the moonlight, how you want to make love to her in candle light. You want to wake up next to her, listening to the rain beating down outside of the window while you are wrapped up safe and warm in her arms. You want her to be your hero, and save you from the nasty spider that threatens to watch you in the shower, you want her to be your big spoon when you're sad, and to come to you when she needs comforting. You want her to sit with you on the couch on Saturday nights, watching crap reality shows on TV, laughing and joking around with you.

You want her to share her past with you, tell you more about how she used to want to be like her brother, and help people. About how she used to write to him while he was away fighting in Iraq, you want her to tell you the story of her 7th birthday party, when she had a clown and ever since he shocked her hand, she's been terrified of them, and about her first kiss in 6th grade with Noah Puckerman, you want to her how she came out to her mother when she was 16, how she only had the courage because she'd gone out to a party with her secret girlfriend and came home completely out of it, how she didn't remember anything the next day and she only knew because her mom baked her a 'you finally came out' cake. You want to hear about the first time she met you, about how she was terrified to approach you because she thought you were so beautiful. You want her to tell you about how she knew she loved you from the first time you smiled.

You just want her back, but most of all you just wish you could tell her how much you love her. Just one more time.

But you can't. So you press replay on the answer phone message she left for you, the night of the accident, and you cry as you hear her say how she'll be home soon, how the traffic's a nightmare and this damn weather isn't helping. You hear her curse and honk her horn at some random person before she talks to you again, saying how she's gotta go but she'll be as quick as she can, how she can't wait to take you to that new Chinese place on West Street and those last three words. 'I miss you.' You cry and you cry until you can't anymore. And as you lay on the bed curled up in her hoodie, you remember. You remember every second you've ever spent with her. And you say it. You say it to the universe and hope that somewhere, somehow, she'll hear you.

_'I miss you.'_


End file.
